


Wrong Side of Heaven

by KatieComma, Orianess



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Guy Made Them Do It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fuck Or Die, Love Confession, M/M, Sex while injured, Thinly veiled excuse to write a lot of smut, Whump, dubcon, uncomfortable first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: Jack and Mac are trapped in Russia with no hope of escape, until their guard offers them an unthinkable proposition.
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

Jack hates Russia. Everything about it. The coldness of the land and its people. He hated it when he was a CIA operative and nothing’s changed since then.

Especially not now with them sitting in a Russian black site prison cell, the viciously cold winter air leaking into their stone cubicle.

They’ve been here over a week, although it could be longer given they’ve both spent some time unconscious here and there. He had tried to keep track with the growth of his scruff but the second time he’d lost consciousness he’d been out for a little over a day he thinks so it became unreliable. They’re both more than a little dehydrated and any portions of food they’ve been given aren’t much between the two of them. It’s a desperate situation. They’ve done their best to maintain a solid front through water boarding sessions and electroshock torture but they are both starting to lose their composure.

Help isn’t coming. They knew when they’d been captured that it wasn’t possible. They weren’t even supposed to be here to start with, so they were on their own. Jack was just grateful Riley and Bozer had managed to get away with the intel they needed without them because if they had all been captured, he’s sure there would’ve been worse fates in store for all of them.

He knows what would’ve happened to Riley. Jack shudders if he thinks about it too closely, how it could’ve happened. For Riley it really would’ve been a fate worse than death. It nearly happened to Mac, and his partner had fought them tooth and nail, only being saved because these slimy bastards’ leader had called them down from behaving like a pack of rutting beasts. It was just regular torture after that. Day after endless day.

But it’s been almost twenty four hours since the last time either he or Mac were dragged out for a new session in their torture chair. Not that Jack’s complaining, his bones ache from the way his muscles have been abused by electricity and Mac’s breaths are starting to sound a little too raspy-thick. They haven’t broken in over a week for their captors and they both know that means they’ve outlived their usefulness. The end is coming, Jack knows, but the question is how exactly.

He gets his answer when their guard, a creepy bastard with shark-like eyes, comes in with only a water bottle for them to drink. The guard sets the bottle in front of the bars and takes up his normal chair in the corner but he doesn’t take his dark eyes off Mac. 

The man hasn’t in fact taken his eyes off Mac almost the entire time they’ve been here and Jack hates it. Jack hates that he knows why the man is looking at his partner, hates how he can almost see the hunger in his eyes. When they’d brought Mac back from water boarding once the man had brazenly reached through the cell bars to stroke Mac’s heaving chest and the open lust on his face had sent a chill down Jack’s spine. Jack had lunged at the man and screamed at him to keep his hands to himself or he’d rip them off, but the man didn’t seem to be too worried about Jack. The guard had merely retreated to his chair and watched Mac.

But right now, the man is staring in a different way. A thoughtful way. A regretful way. Like he’s suddenly grown a conscious watching Mac wasting away on the stone floor. Jack pointedly ignores him and instead focuses on getting Mac to sit up a little from his fetal position on the floor to drink the proffered water. 

Mac manages a few sips, coughing with strained lungs, before he pushes the bottle back to Jack and lays back down with a wheezed groan. Jack rubs his back and cringes when he feels the crackle of congestion between his laboring breaths. He would do anything to get Mac out of this, would do whatever he had to anyway he needed to if it gave Mac a get out of jail free card.

He doesn’t expect the offer to come from the guard.

The slow drawling Russian language whispers from the corner. 

_“Your friend is sick, American. It’s a pity. He may not live to finish his sentence.”_

Jack snaps back at him in his own rusty stilted Russian. 

_“Why should you care? Shut your mouth.”_  
The man folds his arms across his chest and reclines in his chair, looking almost sad. 

_”Strange as it is, I do care. I do not like to see beautiful things go to waste.”_

Jack grits his teeth and flips him off because it’s not like he can do much else. The guard shakes his dark-haired head.

_  
“I wouldn’t believe it either, if I sat where you do. But still... it is a pity.”_  
The man says with a sigh like he’s bemoaning bad weather not their impending doom.

_  
“Well if it’s such a pity, do something about it.”_  
Jack growls at him, keeping his eyes on Mac’s irregular gasps for air. He’s surprised when the silent look that answers him doesn’t look annoyed, it’s contemplative. 

_  
“Perhaps I may. For the right price.”_

Jack knows he should ignore the man. It’s most likely a bait and switch, nothing more. But he watches Mac struggling to breathe and decides he might as well play ball.

_  
“I’m short for cash.”_  
Jack answers after a moment and his chest fills with ice when a wicked smirk appears on the guard’s face.

_  
“You cannot buy everything with money.”_

Jack hisses under his breath, doesn’t like where this is heading, but if there’s any kind of hope to be had, he’ll try. _  
“What would you want?”_

The man’s dark gaze drifts to Mac and he whispers intently, _  
“a moment of beauty.”_

Jack’s gut clenches in terror. _  
“No. Death is better.”_

The man holds up his hands. _  
“Why wish for death when there is freedom? And all things must be earned. But if you’re so sure, death will come for you soon enough.”_

Jack snarls at him. _  
“That a threat?”_

_  
“A simple truth. You and your friend are to be made an example of in the courtyard. As I said, I do not think he’ll make it that long. Perhaps that is best. It will not be an easy thing, I’m sure.”_

Closing his eyes, Jack takes in a breath through clenched teeth. Execution then. Probably a messy one. He figured it might be something like that when they hadn’t been summoned for more torture today. But the real question is when.

_  
“You’re a liar, you can’t get us out of here.”_  
Jack grumbles and the man clicks his tongue at him like they’re having a disagreement over politics. The guard holds up a key from his pocket and Jack stares at it like it’s the last anchor to the mortal world. It is their cell key, an old fashioned steel three prong style. Freedom in the palm of his hand. _  
“Bastard.”_

The guard grins that smug shark-toothed smile and pockets the key. _  
“To the world a bastard, yes. But to you I am a god. I am the difference between life and death.”_

“Fuck you!” Jack snaps, falling into English in his fury, and the man chuckles but doesn’t say anything in response. Mac, startled to waking by his outburst, looks at Jack and then to the guard, trying to figure out what that was about.

“Jack?” Mac wheezes. “What’d he say?”

Jack almost tells him to go back to sleep, that it doesn’t matter what the man said. But. What if the man isn’t lying? What do they have to lose other than to die, either here in this cell or at execution. Instead of answering Mac, Jack turns his eyes back to the guard.

_  
“You cannot have him. I’ll do whatever you want. If you want your fun, I won’t fight you.”_  
Jack offers quietly, eyes on the floor. He’s not crazy about this idea but he’s willing for Mac’s sake. He feels Mac’s eyes on him as he watches the conversation take place.

But the guard shakes his head. _  
“I cannot do that. A man has needs but there are limits.”_

Jack stares at him, annoyed. _  
“Then what do you want? No more riddles. Speak plain.”_

_  
“Beauty is vulnerable and best seen from the outside. I want to see it. I was disappointed when I didn’t get to see it before.”_  
The guard sighs wistfully and Jack wants to puke because he knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

_  
“You want to watch.”_  
Jack asks disbelieving, disgust open on his face and those dark eyes flash like tar under firelight.

_  
“Yes.”_  
The guard groans, shifts in his chair and it doesn’t take much imagination on Jack’s part to guess why. _  
“It has been so long...”_

Jack growls under his breath and Mac rests a gentle hand on his, making him jump.

“What’s wrong?” Mac whispers and Jack grits his teeth because he doesn’t know how to answer that everything’s wrong but that it might be worthwhile. He feels sick even considering this idea because he knows Mac will say yes if there’s any hope of an escape for them. He’d do it for Jack’s sake alone. He hates that smug face the guard is wearing, like the man already knows he’s going to get what he wants.

Jack studies Mac’s face for a moment, his heart aching at the impossible scenario that’s playing in his mind. He looks up at the guard then and asks, _  
“how do I know you’ll keep your word?”_

The guard shrugs. _  
“You don’t. But if it is any consolation, I meant what I said before. Beauty should not be wasted. It would be a sweet prize  
to know he lived because of me. But honestly, what choice do you have?” _

Jack sighs. Some men want to watch the world burn, some just want to play with fire. Like it not, the man is right, they don’t have any other options here. He looks down at Mac who is watching him with a worried expression. It takes him a second to unstick his tongue so that he can whisper to Mac, “the guard has a deal for us.”

Mac coughs a little and sits up, resting his back against the cell wall. “What kind of deal?”

Jack studies the floor. “Mac, he says we’re gonna be executed soon and he says he can help us get out of here. But he wants something in return for his help.” The last word tastes bitter as he says it and he glances at the guard who is leaning forward now, watching their conversation eagerly. He can’t make the words come out, he doesn’t know how he’s even supposed to say this.

Mac watches Jack struggling to get to the point and then turns to look at the guard who actually smiles his greedy hungry grin at Mac’s attention.  
“Jack what does he want?”

He takes the bottle of water and takes a swallow and coughs as it catches on the way down. “Creepy perv wants to be entertained.”

Mac’s eyes go wide and when he looks at the guard this time the guard winks at him. Mac shudders and turns his face away, stares hard into the dark corner of their cell. Jack rests a hand on Mac’s knee, which feels far too intimate given the horrible proposition Mac is being offered, and he pats it gently. He doesn’t blame Mac for refusing, he’s fine with dying if Mac gets to keep a shred of his dignity.

“It’s okay Mac. You know I’d never ask you-“

“What does he want? Like exactly?” Mac whispers under his breath, drawing his knees up to his chest and Jack recoils a little.

“Mac, buddy, you don’t have to do this.”

“Ask him, Jack.” Mac commands firmly. “I’m not doing it so he can just pull the rug out from under us because it wasn’t enough.” 

Jack pauses, and turns to the guard. _  
“He wants to know what you want exactly.”_

_  
“Everything.”_  
The guard practically purrs, rubbing his hands together in excitement. _  
“I’ll accept nothing less.”_

“He…” Jack chokes, nearly sick with knowing what he’s about to say, what it’ll mean to Mac. “He wants everything, nothing less.”

Jack watches a single tear squeeze out of Mac’s closed eyes but he doesn’t say no. After a moment, Mac nods and when the guard claps his hands together with a singular victorious sound, Jack shoots the man a murderous glare. Sucking in a hissed breath between his teeth, Mac stands and goes to unbutton his shirt with hands shaking so hard he can barely grab the first one. 

Jack stands and grabs his hands into his own. “You don’t have to do this. I’m fine with this not happenin’, really.”

Mac pulls back his hands and gives Jack the coldest dead-eyed stare he’s ever seen in his partner’s eyes, completely resigned to his choice. “Stop, Jack. We don’t have a choice. They’re going to kill us. Soon... Even if they don’t, we both know I have pneumonia, probably both lungs by now. If we have any chance of getting to safety this needs to happen now, today. If we don’t, I’ll be too weak to run and then dead in a few days, tops. If he’s telling the truth… the point is, what do we have to lose?”

I’ll lose you, Jack wants to say but he doesn’t. He gets what Mac means but this is so wrong on so many levels. It’s not right, but nothing about this situation is. 

“Mac…” Jack starts to plead with him to think about this again, he doesn’t want Mac doing this at all, but definitely not on less than a minute of thinking time. But Mac’s not having this argument.

Mac grabs Jack by his shirt and yanks him forward so that they’re hugging, the younger man shivering against him as he whispers against Jack’s neck. “Don’t… I’m already scared, Jack. Let me just…”

Jack nearly sobs at the hushed confession but before he can say anything Mac turns toward the guard and steps forward like a man standing at attention for a firing squad.

“Let’s get this over with.” Mac growls and Jack’s heart sinks.

Mac didn’t understand what Jack meant, Jack didn’t explain himself well enough when he was struggling to say what the deal was. Mac thought he was going to have to submit himself to the guard, not Jack. It makes his heart break, knowing Mac was ready to sacrifice himself for Jack in such a demeaning way. And now it’s about to get even more awkward.

Jack clears his throat and manages to thickly whisper, “not him, Mac. You and me.”

Mac whirls on him, eyes wide and wild. “What?”

Jack takes in a shuddering breath. “He doesn’t want… he wants to watch.”

Mac’s mouth hangs open for a second in pure shock and after a second he schools his reaction to be calm again. “O-okay. How should we…?”

And if there was a gun here, Jack would do them both a favor and end this painful situation right now. Mac looks even more freaked out at the idea of them doing this than he was about facing the guard’s attention. Jack does his level best to not be hurt by that, especially given that he’s been head over heels for Mac for, well basically, forever. But Mac doesn’t look less resolved, he just looks less certain what to do next.

“Mac, if you don’t…” Jack tries to offer once more but Mac shakes his head stepping into his space immediately.

“No, this is fine… better than fine. I trust you. We can do this. It’s fine.” Mac promises, letting nervous hands flutter over Jack’s arms up to his shoulders like a frightened prom date. 

Jack can read the way Mac’s brain is talking himself into this, has watched Mac do this before when confronting his fear of heights. It’s exactly the same process, ignore the bad until it’s too late to back out. Jack’s trying to do the same thing too as he rests his hands on Mac’s hips, trying to steady himself before he commits the most ultimate wrong he can think of in his life.

But how can he do this? He has to rape Mac. And it is rape as far as Jack’s concerned. Mac doesn’t have a choice in this, not really at least. It’s like he said earlier, what choice do they have. Fuck or die, and they might still die anyway. This isn’t right. If they get through this, he’s going to lose his partner, his best friend, all because some fucking pervert has a voyeur fetish and a god complex. And he doesn’t doubt he’ll lose Mac when or if they even get free. How could Mac possibly even look at him ever again after this is over? 

Jack’s so deep in his misery he barely notices Mac’s hand on his cheek and those gorgeous blue eyes inches from his.

“Jack, hey… it’s alright.” Mac coaxing his attention quietly, both hands resting under Jack’s jaw in a gentle hold. He turns his head to cough for a second and adds on a ragged breathless groan. “We’re going to get through this. Just… think about whatever you need to, okay?”

Jack tries to ignore their surroundings and follow Mac’s advice. And it’s not like that’s too hard, he has a vivid spank bank, an unhealthy amount of it has Mac in it. Mac naked out of the Army showers. Mac relaxing on his couch after an injury, bare chested and smiling at Jack. Fantasies of them rolling around in a bed, love-drunk. It’s not like Jack hasn’t dreamed of this before, little secret wishes for more with his sexy younger partner but he always knew they were just fantasies. 

He tries to focus on the familiar warmth of being aroused, picturing Mac naked and loosely splayed out on his bed, asking for more. But as he does he catches sight of the guard who already has his hand in his pants and any ideas of pleasure that might have come to mind are morphed into grief and sickness instantly. He’s no better than that monster in the corner asking them to do this for his entertainment. He’s lusted after his partner for longer than he ever should have, and giving into this now, enjoying this when Mac is sacrificing his privacy and peace of mind for a possible chance at freedom, not even a guaranteed one. It’s so wrong.

He’s completely lost to his anguished panic, almost near to tears, when Mac pulls Jack into him and buries his face against his neck like he did when he’d admitted being afraid before.

But he doesn’t sound afraid now.

“Jack, easy, take a breath...” Mac encourages softly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jack risks looking over his shoulder to the corner and Mac immediately steers him back to focus on him.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. It’s just us right now, okay?”

Jack nods helplessly and wraps his arms around Mac, savoring what will probably be the last untainted hug he’ll ever get from his friend. Mac gives him a gentle squeeze, warm and real despite everything.

“We’re not here right now. We’re back at home.” Mac says certainly. “We’re doing this for us. We’re sitting by the fire on my deck…”

Jack sighs and presses his lips against Mac’s neck and lets his friend’s voice ease into his mind. Mac stifles a cough against Jack’s shoulder before he tries again.

“It’s cold out so… we stay by the fire.” Mac takes one of Jack’s hands and guides it to wrap around his neck while he sways himself carefully against Jack. “Everyone’s gone home. We’ve had a couple cold ones…”

Jack snickers against Mac’s neck. “Dunno about you, but my mouth don’t taste like no cold beer I’ve ever had.”

Mac laughs quietly under his breath at that and Jack laughs with him, a nervous shell shocked sort of laughter and it dissolves quickly when Mac breaks into a coughing spell. Jack rubs his back and whispers an apology, letting one hand wander up into Mac’s hair to massage at his scalp.

After a second, the coughing dies off and Mac sighs as he leans into Jack’s fingers. “That’s nice… where was I?” 

Jack smiles a little and sways against Mac the way he did before. “Next to the fire, a few beers…”

“Just us…” Mac says firmly.

“Just us.” Jack echoes. “Then what happens?”

Mac curls one hand around Jack’s neck and presses his face against Jack’s chest.

“I’d say… I’ve got a crazy idea.” Mac offers uncertainly, leaning back to look at Jack a little. Jack nods, drawn in by Mac’s scene setting.

“I love your crazy ideas.” Jack adds and Mac gives him a wan smile.

Mac runs a shaking hand through Jack’s short hair and whispers, “I’d ask you if you’ve ever thought about it. About us. Together.”

Jack feels himself yearning to back away before he crosses the last boundary but he has to do this. He knows they can’t back out now so he lets a bold hand reach up and cup his partner’s cheek, the last innocent thing he’ll have with him. He’s about to answer Mac’s fantasy question when he feels something thump against his arm and click quietly on the floor. He looks down and sees a tiny travel sized bottle of lotion next to his boots.

_  
“Enough talk.”_  
The guard grumbles impatiently and Jack stoops down to retrieve the plastic bottle that the guard has generously given them. Jack’s grateful, if nothing else, they’ll have something better than just spit to get them through this.

Jack turns his focus back to Mac and tucks the bottle under his thumb before he reaches up for the first button on Mac’s shirt. They lock eyes and Mac gives him a gentle nod before he starts to tug up Jack’s shirt. The process of undressing each other is completely mechanical, a usually fun part of sex in Jack’s experience is now rendered cold and robotic. When they’re both down to their boxers, goosebumps all over their skin in the worst way, Jack feels his nerves starting to get the better of him. It feels like standing on a cliff with no harness or safety net, ready to plunge and never go back.

“I could…” Mac begins to offer and gently cups Jack’s crotch with a polite hand, making a lewd gesture with his mouth to mime sucking. Jack shakes his head. It’s not that it wouldn’t help here, especially given that Jack is so freaked out by this scenario he’s the farthest from being turned on he’s ever been, but Mac’s in no shape for a blowjob. He’d probably start coughing the second he got his mouth on him and neither one of them have much salvia to spare given the tiny amount of water they’ve had lately.

“I’ll get there.” Jack says after a moment and shows Mac the lotion. “We need to get you ready. Can you… hands and knees for me, okay?”

Mac’s face flushes red at the request but he doesn’t hesitate and, using Jack’s hand to steady him, he removes his boxers before he kneels down to assume the position. Jack feels the barest hint of his dick stirring at the sight of Mac’s bare ass presented to him just so, he refuses to think about why, and he focuses in on that feeling. 

With shaking hands, Jack removes his own underwear and kneels down behind him, coating his finger with a bit of lotion. He tries to zone himself into the mentality of all the times he’s helped Mac in the field with an injury. He tells himself this is no different, that Mac needs him to perform a task so they can go home, he just has to put everything aside and focus on the task. So, Mac needs to be prepped and Jack’s hand is the only tool he has. He needs to be thorough and quick so Mac doesn’t suffer too much. This isn’t any different than all the times he’s had to pull debris from Mac’s wounds or put sutures in him. Mac needs him and Jack’s going to take care of him, simple as that.

He rests one hand on Mac’s hip, mostly to warn him, and methodically shuts his brain down to everything but the motion of moving in. He resolutely ignores the quiet gasp of Mac’s surprise when he breaches his hole and the sound of a belt buckle clicking open in the corner behind him. 

He focuses on in and out. He focuses on side to side, depth and pressure. There’s no one here but them, he tells himself. The sound in the corner is just a creaky old building making noise as they do. He adds a bit more lotion when his finger cannot pass smoothly and adds another finger after several more passes. He has a job to do, Mac needs his help, and he’s going to do his best.

But somewhere along the way, Jack’s clinical idea of helping starts drifting. He can’t help it really. On an instinctual level, his body knows what is going to happen, no matter how respectful he tries to keep his thoughts. His dick knows where it’s going to be, in a place he’s always wanted it to be. A tight warm place. The fact that it belongs to a beautiful someone he’s been secretly in love with is a huge added bonus.

It’s just so easy to let his mind wander. He refocuses on the scene Mac painted for them earlier, a night on the deck, a few beers, how silly chatter would have slowly changed into a gentle first kiss. He likes to think about having the taste of Mac in his mouth, the way his hushed gasps of approval would change into demands for more. He can see so clearly in his mind’s eye how they would’ve eventually fallen into bed, how Mac would be spread out underneath him and every kiss would melt into his skin. 

And watching the way Mac’s shoulders arch and round with each press of his hand, he already knows all of this is going to be added to that guilty pile of fantasy fodder. 

Mac’s making soft groans and grunts under his breath, the muscles of his back standing at tense attention while he tries to breathe in a steady way. Jack uses his free hand to gently sweep up and down his spine and he asks quietly, “you okay?”

Mac’s head bobs once and he answers in a trembling whisper. “Think I’m close enough…”

Jack pats his hip as an agreement and as Mac starts to lower himself to the ground, something about Mac being on his back on this filthy cell’s floor is so wrong Jack can’t bear it. He’ll be so cold on the stone floor, and with his sickness he can’t afford to be colder.

“Wait, come here.” Jack requests and Mac gives him a look but obliges, eyes going wide when Jack seats himself on the ground and motions for him to take a seat in Jack’s lap.

“Jack I don’t think I can…” Mac starts shyly as he starts to settle down over him, making an up and down motion with his hand to explain his concern. But Jack never intended for Mac to have to worry about that part.

“I’ve got you, Mac. Just try to get comfortable and let me do the work.”

Mac doesn’t say anything, just folds himself down so that his weight is centered over Jack and they’re left face to face, chagrin and nervousness rampant in their eyes.

“Ready?” Jack asks him on a nearly silent whisper and Mac gives him a shaky nod. Smearing the last of the lotion on his dick, he gently guides Mac to lift up enough that he can line himself up for entry.

Jack could never have prepared himself for this. He bites his lip to control the moan that nearly escapes him as Mac slides down around him. It’s so hot, his dick completely sheathed in hot silk. He probably clings too tightly to Mac’s hips but Jack just can’t help it. A string of profane things race to his tongue to be bitten back at the last moment before he glances up to watch Mac’s face. The younger man’s eyes are closed tightly while he grips Jack’s shoulders in a white knuckle hold and settles himself on Jack’s dick.

After a moment, they’re both breathing hard and fighting for control, when they dare to meet eyes again Mac offers Jack a shaken smirk. Jack glances down to see Mac’s dick, which had been half standing after Jack’s prepwork, is now completely limp again and it takes the wind out of his sails a bit. 

Mac’s hurting, even with the lotion and the prep, and this likely isn’t going to be a pleasant experience. 

“Mac?” Jack whispers, hesitant. He wants to make this better for his partner but they don’t have anything else and if they don’t start soon the lotion will be too dry to be useful. Mac just rubs his arm in response and hisses under his breath.

“Just- just do it. I’ll be fine.” 

And truth or not, they don’t have a choice.

Using mostly the power of his arms, Jack lifts Mac by his hips to rise and fall in his lap, a pace probably too fast too soon, but he has a lot of ground to cover on a time limit. Mac needs to be able to finish so that the guard can get the ‘full show’ and Jack has no doubt it’s going to take a lot of work to get him there. He doubles down on focusing on the mechanics of his task, up and down, as steady as possible, for what feels like an impossibly long time.

Meanwhile Mac, poor Mac, is leaning his forehead on Jack’s shoulder just taking the abuse of his hole, panting and wheezing quietly. He’s completely exhausted from this whole ordeal (both current and past) and this is probably going to put him over the edge. Now and again a noise will slip against Jack’s neck, a breathy whimper or a low throaty groan bordering on pain, and Jack has to focus completely on every little libido driven day dream he’s ever had to stay hard enough to finish this. The very idea of hurting Mac at all is stealing his will to keep going but knowing he’s hurting him so intimately is enough to break his heart. 

But at last, the light at the end of the tunnel appears in the whisper of Mac’s plea in his ear. “Jack I need… touch me… please…”

Jack wraps an arm around Mac’s waist and continues to rock him up and down while he snakes one hand between them to grip the leaking length of Mac’s cock.

“Jack…” Mac moans, head rolling back like he can’t bear to hold it up and Jack twists his fist so that Mac is fucking into his hand.

“C’mon Mac. Come on buddy… let go for me…” Jack pleads and Mac arches into him, chasing the ending they desperately need.

“Right there, right there…” Mac groans, arms wrapping loosely around Jack’s neck as he looks down between them to watch where his dick is passing wetly through Jack’s fist. “That’s it… yes -!”

Mac gives a muffled yell before he full body bucks against Jack’s supporting arm as he starts to come, shuddering as his body gives into its release. There isn’t much actual cum to show for his performance, little surprise given how dehydrated he is, but it’s there. 

Task completed, Jack pulls himself free from Mac and hugs his friend to him, petting his hair while Mac tries to calm enough to breathe easier. He’s about to ask if Mac’s okay, when the sound of soft clapping fills the room.

When Jack turns to look and the guard is giving them a smug grin while he tucks his shirt back into place. He’s complimenting Mac in all sorts of horrid ways and Jack makes it a point to not hear him, instead focusing on helping Mac get up to get dressed. Mac’s too winded to be much help, just offering his arms and legs for Jack to guide clothing on to, which Jack is only too glad to help. Having Mac naked and defenseless in front of the shark-eyed man feels like a crime worth capital punishment. 

Once they are dressed, Jack turns back to the guard, who is done monologuing it seems, and commands. _  
“The key.”_

_  
“Seems a shame to have you leave so soon. I would not mind an encore.”_  
The guard smirks and Jack feels icy dread wash down his back. Jack’s first instinct is to roar furiously at the man for being a liar and a trickster but he doesn’t think that will help. 

Instead, Jack swallows his fury and plays to the man’s prideful obsession with Mac. _  
“Please… you said you wanted him to live. We’ve done what you asked. Please, let me save him.”_

The man’s smugness disappears, evolving into disappointment as his eyes slip to Mac who can barely breathe on the floor. With a regretful sigh, the man walks to the door and unlocks it, stepping back like Jack might charge the door.

_  
“I am a man of my word.”_

Jack immediately grabs Mac and pulls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms around his neck so he can support him. The guard comes closer, as if to say goodbye or wish them well or any other absurdity that could be expressed, but he just watches them for a moment as they retrieve their boots that had been tossed aside to the corner.

They tug their boots on as quickly as possible and just as they’re ready to go out, the guard tells them, _  
“take care out there. If not… I might get my encore after all.”_

And the idea of all that could mean, the threat it feels like after everything they just went through, has Jack’s fury boiling over. Without warning, Jack grabs the man by his hair and slams him against the stone wall. The guard slumps boneless to the floor, a red splotch on the stone where his head had made contact, and Jack can feel nothing but regret that he doesn’t have time to do worse to him. He turns back to Mac who is leaning against the bars, face blank of reaction, and before Jack can try to justify himself, Mac whispers, “Check him for a phone.”

It’s their lucky day after all, because there is one. An ancient looking flip phone but it should do the trick. Jack’s just about to use it when a bang of a distant door alerts them to someone coming their way. The phone call will have to wait.

Everything from there happens in a bit of an adrenaline blank spot. Jack couldn’t tell you how they make it out of the compound exactly, it’s a blur of quick scuffles and a blind run for freedom. They get out past the wall of the encampment just as the inner-building guards figure out they’ve made their escape and sound the alarm. The hail of distant shouting echoes behind them as they dash through the snow into the thicket of winter coated trees.

Mac manages to keep up with Jack for the first half mile but after they summit a small hill, the younger man hits his knees in a cold slush snowbank, coughing so hard he’s gagging. 

“Keep... going... Jack.” Mac wheezes, listing to his left on the edge of fainting but Jack has no intention of listening to his martyr-antics today.

“Bullshit.” Jack growls at him, yanking him up and over his shoulder in a dead man's carry. He staggers a bit as he adjusts to Mac’s added weight but he rights himself. They’ll get away together or die trying.

Jack runs as long as he can, runs deep into the snowy forest. He runs till it is silent around him, no sounds of pursuit, until the only sound is of his own harsh panting and Mac’s choked groans in his ear. He runs until his legs will take him no further. He drops to his knees behind a towering conifer and lowers Mac as carefully to the ground as he can, Mac’s head rolling limply on the verge of unconsciousness. He pillows Mac against him and reaches for the phone he had stashed as they escaped. 

He pulls it out and dials Riley’s number from memory. It rings through to voicemail four times before he sends the call again, near to despair, praying she answers. If she doesn’t… at least she’ll know they did their best to come home.

When it picks up, it’s a sleepy, “hello?”

“Riley, baby, it’s Jack.”

The call is quick. Riley pinpoints their location, somewhere on the far side of Siberia if the coordinates are anything to go off of. They don’t say much but all that matters to Jack is that help is coming. A TAC team is enroute, dispatched from a local ally military base. They don’t even have to meet them, they’re coming right to their GPS ping. All they have to do is wait. Riley tells him tearfully she wants pizza when he gets back for scaring the hell out of her. He promises to buy her all the pizza she wants for getting them a ride out of this place.

Jack hangs up and cradles Mac more to his chest, trying to keep him out of the cold.

“We made it Mac. We’re gonna be fine…” Jack says raggedly, the relief or knowing help is coming tempered by the stark paleness of Mac’s face and his thin shallow breaths. If Mac looked bad in that dank cell, it’s nothing compared to how he looks in the light of day. His skin could almost match the snow under them, aside from the flush to his cheeks, either from fever or his overexertion, Jack doesn’t know. “Hang on for me, Mac. We-we got away. We’re-you’re gonna be just f-fine…”

Mac doesn’t respond to him, Jack doesn’t expect an answer, but he pulls him up so that his head is resting on his shoulder, face cradled safely against his neck. He can keep Mac safe this way, sheltered in his arms, as much from the cold and the cruelty of the world as he can manage on his own. He wants to do more, he should’ve done more for him. They should never have been here, never been caught this way. He failed Mac, had to rely on Mac’s sacrifice to give them the chance to run. Jack let Mac down. If Mac never wants to talk to him again after this, he wouldn’t blame him at all. It’s the least he deserves.

He kisses Mac’s forehead and closes his eyes against the burn of tears, shame and guilt crawling hot and hideous over his shoulders. He’s responsible for this, for Mac barely clinging to life in his arms in the snow. For him having to give up his dignity and his body to Jack. 

But he’s alive. 

Jack will have to take that as a consolation for everything else that has gone wrong up to this point. So long as Mac is alive, that’s all that matters.

Mac coughs weakly against his neck and the crackle of congestion sounds thicker and more threatening. Jack strokes his hair back from his forehead and sighs. “It’s gonna be okay Mac. You’re gonna be fine. We made it.”

He watches the sky for their incoming salvation and strokes Mac’s hair, as much to soothe himself as it is to soothe Mac. When the shadow of the chopper appears in the distance, Jack looks down at Mac and studies him in his exhausted sleep, grateful his partner is alive. All he can do is hope, Mac will be grateful too.

—  
-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Jack have a very needed conversation, and they get a real shot at beers on the deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KatieComma authored this section, beautiful job sister dear ❤️

Mac wakes up and for once he’s not in a hospital. He breathes deep and it feels good. The beeping of monitors doesn’t echo around the room, the hiss of the ventilator is gone, and his nerves are grateful. The sound of the machines, the constant interruption from nurses and doctors… Mac was so ready to leave.

The curve of the jet’s wall over top of him is a beautiful sight. He’s on his way home. The hum of the engines, the dulling of his hearing from the air pressure, these things are all familiar feelings and sounds.

They’d stopped a few times to refuel on the long trip. But now they are on the last leg. And Mac’s done sleeping. Jack’s been pushing for it constantly. “You need rest” or “you look tired hoss.” Any excuse to herd him back to the little bedroom at the back of the jet and force him to lay down.

But now Mac’s done. He’s not tired anymore. He’s excited to get home. But before they land, there’s something that he needs to do.

Mac walks toward the front of the plane, feeling like himself. When he’s up and moving around for too long he starts to feel out of breath and a bit weak, but it’s fading each day that goes by. He can move around longer and do more.

Jack’s leaned back in one of the chairs looking bored and gazing out the window. Mac sits across from him and kicks his feet.

Jack straightens up, shuffling off the relaxation that he’d been wearing like a comfortable blanket and replacing it with tense shoulders and tightly clasped hands. “Hey hoss, you up already?”

“Jack,” Mac scolds, but puts on a grin. “I’ve been sleeping for hours.”

“Well, a little more couldn’t hurt is all I’m saying,” Jack says, and then shifts like he’s about to stand up and push Mac back toward the back of the plane.

“Enough Jack,” Mac says, firm but not angry. “Enough.”

“I don’t know what you mean Mac,” Jack replies, his shifting eyes betraying the lie as he sits back in his chair again.

“I’m not some fragile civilian you’ve been assigned to protect here, ok?” Mac says. “You need to stop treating me like I’m broken. I’m getting better. And the doctor said it’s important for me to be up and moving around for my recovery. So just stop, ok?”

Jack nods, and that confrontation seems to have relaxed him a little.

“And we need to talk,” Mac says, trying to keep himself calm, trying to will the emotions away. Not because this isn’t an emotional conversation, but because he needs to get it out.

“I don’t know…” Jack won’t meet his eye and looks down at his hands, picking at a nail. “I don’t know what you mean Mac. Nothin’ we gotta talk about.”

Mac sighs. He knew this would be hard. And he figures it’s just best to get on with it. Pull the bandaid.

“I need to apologise to you Jack,” Mac says. “This whole-”

“Wait what?” Jack asks, sitting forward and gripping his knees. He’s finally looking Mac in the eye, and he looks angry. “You got nothin’ to apologize for Mac. If anything-”

“Yes!” Mac cuts in. “Yes, I do Jack. I know we haven’t talked about it. I know you don’t want to. But what happened to us Jack…” He swallows the lump of emotion in his throat and continues. “What we’ve been through together. And I…” He falters about the place he expected, exactly when he’s about to admit how much of a monster he is. “I never asked for your consent Jack.”

The words hang between them in the air. Jack’s face is twisted in confusion. “My… consent? What are you talkin’ about? I’m the one that…” It’s Jack’s turn to choke up a little now. “I’m the one that hurt you Mac. I’m the one that pushed you to…”

Mac shakes his head. “It was the only way Jack,” he says, “and you gave me all the choice in the world. Told me we’d figure something else out.” Mac shakes his head. It feels like there’s a glass wall between them. Sitting so close, but so far apart at the same time. “You kept telling me we didn’t have to do it. But once I decided I never asked if you were ok. I never…” Mac’s voice breaks. “How could I have not given you that choice Jack? I should have seen you didn’t want to from the way you were talking about it. The way you kept telling me we could figure something else out.”

“No Mac, no-” Jack says, and now Mac looks away because he can’t stand to see the emotion welling up in Jack’s eyes.

“Yes Jack, and I’m sorry,” Mac feels his control breaking down. The emotions he wanted to leave aside are welling to the surface, burning his eyes and making his breath coming ragged. “I didn’t think about you. All I could think was-”

Jack interrupts by dropping to his knees in front of Mac, finding a place between Mac’s feet and taking Mac’s hands into his own. “No Mac, stop,” Jack says, sniffing back a sniffle, “you need to slow down, ok? Calm down. Breathe.”

Mac can’t. He needs to let it all out, couldn’t stop it if he tried, but he grips Jack’s hands desperately while he gasps for air and goes on. “All I could think was that if I could have you, even there… in that way… just for a few minutes. That I’d take it. I’d take what I could get and after somehow we could move on. Which is so selfish, Jack. And now it seems like you… I mean, if you want to walk away. I would understand. All I could see was a way to freedom, a way to save you and an excuse to _have_ you at the same time.” Mac gasps and draws in air and it doesn’t feel like enough. “And I didn’t even ask if that was alright with you. I just took it. And that’s not-” His lungs feel like they’re closing up, like he can’t get enough air.

“Deep breaths, hoss,” Jack says, and his exterior is calm, but Mac can see the panic racing around in his eyes. His hands squeeze Mac’s tight. “Told you not to get so worked up. Do you ever listen?” He smiles, hoping the joke will help somehow, but it doesn’t get air to Mac’s lungs.

Mac’s body is trying to sob and gasping for air at the same time and it’s an awful feeling.

“Come here,” Jack says. He stands and uses his considerable strength to pull Mac to his feet. They wander the few steps to the couch that hugs one wall. Jack sits down first and pulls Mac down to sit between his legs, back to Jack’s chest. “Breathe with me Mac. Calm down and match my breaths ok?” He wraps his arms loose around Mac, taking their hands and lacing them together.

And they just breathe. Jack’s chest rises and falls in long, slow, steady movements. Mac lets all of the emotion flow out of him, forgets for a while and all that exists is Jack’s breath, and syncing up with him. They’ve never had trouble with that before: moving together, moving as one, being in sync. So Mac gives into that feeling, that history and just lets Jack’s body tell his own what to do.

Mac is warm and comfortable. He’s wrapped up and feels safe.

“Mac,” Jack’s voice is soft in his ear. _Right_ by his ear. “We’re landing dude, time to wake up.” The arms wrapped around Mac squeeze just a little tighter.

Mac comes up from sleep more quickly now that he understands what’s going on: they’re on the Phoenix jet, Jack’s arms are wrapped around him, he’s laying on Jack.

He opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling of the jet. And now he can feel the way the plane is tilting, feel the pressure in his ears. He moves to sit up, but Jack’s still holding him tight and won’t let him move.

“Slowly, ok Mac?” Jack asks. And he’s genuinely asking, not being condescending or trying to tell him what to do.

“Yeah, ok,” Mac says. Yes, his recovery has been coming along, but he knows not to push himself too hard. He hadn’t intended to get so worked up over just a conversation. “Did I pass out?” He can’t quite remember.

“Naw,” Jack says, “just fell asleep.”

He pats Jack’s forearms, to let him know he wants to sit up. Jack loosens his arms and pulls them back. Mac is cold for the loss of them, wants them back. But he’s done taking from Jack without asking. Especially because he knows Jack would never deny him anything, he’s too good a soul.

Mac sits up slowly, his head pounding a little, but more like a threatening headache than an actual one. He shifts to put his feet on the floor and looks over at Jack to realize he’s still sitting between Jack’s thighs.

“Oh, sorry,” Mac startles and moves along the couch.

“Slow, ok?” Jack says again. Once Mac is clear, Jack lifts his leg from the back of the couch to set both feet on the floor. “You feeling ok?” He sets a hand to Mac’s shoulder.

Mac nods. “Head’s a bit…” he waves his hand around to imply something is going on.

“That might be the pressure change too,” Jack says.

They sit there just like that: Jack’s hand on him, a warm and steady pressure, just sitting beside each other while the plane lands. They don’t try to talk anymore, they just sit together.

Bozer and Riley are waiting outside as they come down the steps from the jet.

“You guys didn’t have to come all the way out here,” Mac says.

“Course we didn’t _have_ to,” Bozer replies, pulling Mac into a hug.

“But we wanted to,” Riley adds, opening her arms for a hug next.

Mac pulls her in close.

“Knew you wouldn’t be-”

“There she is!” Jack calls from behind as he hops down the steps. “My girl I missed you!” He bolts across the airstrip to the GTO parked at the side. Jack lays down across the hood and kisses the hot metal, pulling back quickly and patting at his lips. “Think she’s mad at me. Burned me a little.”

“Gee, nice to see you too Jack!” Riley calls out as her and Bozer grab Mac’s bags and walk toward the cars. It’s all joking, there’s a wide smile on her face as they get closer.

Jack pulls her into a rough hug, swaying back and forth with her in his arms. “Come on girl, you know I missed you.” He reaches out and pulls Bozer in for a group hug. “You too Boz. Get in on this.”

Mac leans against the GTO and watches his friends, his family, hold each other. A happy reunion. He’s not even mad that he’s been left out, because they’re just looking out for him; Mac’s injured and Jack’s bearhugs are notorious for injury. So Mac just smiles and watches them be happy together, knowing that he’s in that hug spiritually if not physically.

“So what brings you all out here?” Jack asks, finally breaking the hug and hauling the bags around to throw in the trunk. “We could’a met ya’ll in town.”

Bozer shrugs. “Naw, we just wanted to see Mac here the minute he got back.”

“The minute,” Riley says softly as she leans next to him against the sun-warmed car. She’s close, their arms pressed together. And it’s comforting.

“And we know,” Bozer continues, “that Mac’s not up for any partying tonight or anything. You guys have just had such a long trip. But we wanted to see you man.”

Mac smiles, feeling his face flush a little. “I appreciate that Boz, I really do.”

“But now we’ll let Jack get you home to bed-”

The phrasing throws Mac suddenly, and he doesn’t hear the rest of what Bozer says. Do they know? Did someone tell them? Mac’s brain suddenly runs back to the interrogation and long-distance secure-line debriefs he went through. He was groggy for a lot of it, but he can’t remember if he told them about him and Jack. He doesn’t think so. He wouldn’t have… No. He didn’t. He knows he didn’t. It’s just been a long day, and his brain is a little fried. Bozer didn’t mean what Mac thought he meant.

“Mac?” Riley’s voice cuts through Bozer’s banter with Jack. Her voice is soft and gentle. “You ok?”

He looks over and her big brown eyes are wide with concern.

Mac tries for a smile but it feels awful on his face, like it doesn’t belong, like he can’t remember how to smile though he did it only a few minutes ago. “Yeah, of course Riles,” he says. “Just tired.”

“And on that note Boz,” Jack cuts in, having gotten a look at Mac’s face. “Think it’s best I get this guy home for some rest.” He claps Mac on the shoulder, but it’s a much lighter touch than it would normally be.

“Of course Jack, of course,” Bozer says. “But like I said: Mac’s place, tomorrow night. I’m cookin’.”

“Wouldn’t miss it Boz,” Jack says.

Riley follows Bozer over to his car.

Jack opens the passenger door for Mac. “You ok, hoss? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Mac sags into the seat. “Yeah Jack, just… it’s nothing.”

Jack closes the door particularly hard and almost stomps over to the driver’s door before he slides in behind the wheel. He reaches to turn the key, but stops and turns toward Mac instead. “I’d rather you didn’t say anything than lie to me Mac, you got that?”

Mac’s shocked. He wasn’t expecting a reprimand.

“We don’t lie to each other,” Jack’s voice is strained suddenly. “Never have.” He turns to the wheel and flips the key in the ignition. “Please no lyin’, ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Ok,” Mac says desperately, feeling as though they’re at an important moment in their relationship suddenly.

But then the moment passes as Jack revs the engine and pulls away from the airstrip.

They roll the windows down, and cool air flows through the car. Mac’s head feels clear for the first time in weeks. It almost feels like longer than he can remember. Like a haze is clearing. The breeze smells like California; hot asphalt and greenery and sea. He’d missed those smells.

When they get to Mac’s, Jack opens the door and lets them in, dropping both of their bags by the front door. Of course Jack will stay to watch over him.

The house is perfect and a feeling of ease settles on him the moment the door is closed behind them. Nothing can hurt him here. Despite the number of people that have come into his home and tried to hurt him… have hurt him, he still feels safe in it.

“What’re you feeling hoss?” Jack asks. “Early to bed, early to rise situation? Or…”

Mac sighs and he’s starting to finally feel normal again. “I would kill for a beer on the deck,” he lets it out with a little laugh at the end, and his smile comes back.

“Are you sure you’re-”

“Jack I swear, if you’re about to ask me if I’m feeling up to it I’m going to kick your ass like I did the first day we met.” He laughs again, and this time Jack joins him.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll get the brews and meet you out there amigo.”

Mac climbs the stairs slowly, still worried about his breathing, but he feels better now that he’s home. Somehow being home is healing him. He sits down at the cold fire pit, and looks out at the city.

Jack stomps up the stairs and presses a cold beer into Mac’s hand before he putters around and gets the fire going.

The heat is welcome in the cool evening air.

They sit next to each other and drink beer like they always have. Jack’s right there next to him, their elbows and knees touching once in a while. And it’s almost like they can forget what happened. Maybe they can.

They can only sit in silence so long before Jack starts to itch. He can never stay quiet for long. Mac has wondered for years how exactly the man made it as a sniper when he can’t keep quiet for more than five minutes, maybe ten tops if he’s really concentrating. Then again, maybe it was all those years of being forced to be quiet that made him a chatterbox, though Mac doubts it.

“Mac dude,” Jack sighs, “I don’t want to get you all worked up again, but there’s some things you said earlier that I think we should definitely talk about.” He’s still looking at the scenery when Mac looks over.

Mac waits until Jack meets his eye finally, reluctantly.

“If you’re up for it,” Jack adds. “I think it’s best to pull the bandaid on this whole sticky situation.” He cringes at the phrasing that came falling out of his mouth seemingly without permission. “You know what I mean.”

“Ok,” Mac says simply and sips at his beer. It tastes so good, despite the looming conversation.

“Now, you said some things about…” Jack swallows heavily. “About not getting my consent, and I wanna start there. Now, you don’t gotta worry about that one bit, ok? I spent that whole… situation… worried about the same damn thing on my end. So I think we’ve cleared up that we forgive each other in that department, right?”

Mac opens his mouth to argue that Jack never actually said yes in the moment, but Jack narrows his eyes and Mac concedes the point with a nod. “Yes.”

Jack gives a shake like a dog coming out of the water, and it shimmies away all the tension that has been in his shoulders. “Now, as for the rest…” He coughs. “You were talkin’ about bein’ selfish. And tryin’ to… take what you could get.”

Here it is. The conversation Mac has been avoiding for years. He shouldn’t have let himself lose control on the plane and let it out because now he’s probably ruined everything, unless he can talk himself out of it.

“Tryin’ to take the few minutes you could have with me,” Jack says. “I think we really need to talk about that part because damned if the exact same thing wasn’t runnin’ through my head the whole time. It killed me to think like that while you were hurtin’ Mac, and I…” Jack’s voice chokes off and he takes a hasty sip of his beer.

Mac can’t believe it. He almost sags in relief, and feels like something he’s holding tight in his gut is dispersing. He wishes it didn’t happen like this. How can they start something this way, and have it not be tainted? And then Mac knows exactly how.

“Do you remember what I said?” Mac asks, his voice calm. “Do you remember when I was trying to distract you, and I was talking about it just being the two of us, out here on the deck?”

Jack nods, the motion loosening a few tears from his eyes. “Havin’ a few beers,” he remembers aloud with a sad smile, bringing his bottle up in mock cheers.

“And I’d say: I’ve got a crazy idea,” Mac cocks his eyebrow and sets his beer down, the bottle making a hollow sound on the deck.

Jack grins, his eyes still welling up. “I love your crazy ideas. S’long as they don’t get us killed.”

Mac lets his face get serious as he turns to Jack.

Jack’s fumbling the bottle between his fingers, picking at the label, as their eyes meet. Mac takes the bottle away and puts it next to his own.

“Have you ever thought about it? About us? Together?” Mac asks, leaning into Jack a little, watching his lips.

“Every damn day,” Jack replies almost desperately.

That last foot between them closes so slowly it feels like they’ll just keep leaning in forever and never bridge the gap. They trade looks, watching each other’s mouths, meeting gazes, asking for permission with every darted glance.

Finally their lips meet, and it tastes like cold beer, their mouths cold with it still. And they open to each other immediately like they’ve been doing this for years. And it feels natural and perfect and exactly the way this fantasy had always played out for Mac. Because that’s what he’d given Jack that day in their cage in Russia; his favourite fantasy to play out between them.

Jack’s right hand comes to rest softly on the side of Mac’s neck, while the left slides up into his hair. And that’s when Mac realizes: hands! He’s just sitting with his in his lap when he could be using them. He slides them up Jack’s chest and neck until he’s cupping Jack’s cheeks softly, rubbing gently at the stubble. He feels tears fall, tickling his thumbs, but he knows they’re happy tears, because he knows Jack.

Mac feels the pressure building in his chest, his lungs still weak after the pneumonia. He pushes back enough to break their lips like a bubble popping, wet and almost comically audible.

Mac gasps for air, but not desperately like he had on the plane. It’s the gasping of someone who has run too fast and too hard, or someone coming up for air from a long swim. Normal exertion. Mac’s is just catching up with him quicker than normal. His increased heart rate isn’t helping.

He smiles immediately so Jack won’t get the wrong impression, and opens his eyes to see Jack’s warm gaze, still misty, looking him over with worry.

“I shouldn’t have…” Jack says. “It’s too much and I…” He doesn’t finish that sentence and instead moves his hands down to run them over Mac’s body the way he does when he’s looking for injury. But of course there’s nothing new to find.

Mac keeps a hold of Jack’s cheeks and pulls his face back up so their gazes meet. “It’s ok Jack,” he says, “still recovering. Just a little winded is all. See? I’ve already got my breath back.” And it’s true. He’s returned to his regular rate of breathing.

Jack leans forward and puts his forehead against Mac’s. “Where do we go from here Mac?” He asks. And it’s not a demand, or a request for anything; it’s a genuine question, Jack is confused. And if Mac knows him, which he does, Jack’s a little sad too. Like he thinks the outcome will be bad.

“We go to bed Jack,” Mac says. And then it occurs to him that he’s not asking again, and he chastises himself before he adds: “If you want.”

Jack sits back, eyes wide and full of confusion. “Do you mean… like…” He raises his eyebrows in that fantastic lewd way that he has. “Like… _to bed_ to bed?”

Mac laughs and it feels so good. He’s missed laughing with Jack. “Yeah Jack, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Well… but… are you…” Jack splutters, hands still on Mac. His fingers grip loose at Mac’s thigh, and one on his forearm. The pressure from them is reassuring. “I don’t know if that’s wise, do you? Not just cause you’re still recoverin’ man, but because… of what happened…” Jack doesn’t look away this time when he mentions the incident, and Mac takes that as a good sign.

“Here’s the way I see it,” Mac starts, “if we try to take this whole thing slow, and start dating first and then move on to the sex stuff, I think this whole thing is going to be hanging over us. This awful dark cloud hanging over us, and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get rid of it. I think we should push past it. Confront it. I think we’ll be stronger for it.”

Jack doesn’t seem convinced.

“It’s ok to say no Jack,” Mac says, “don’t ever feel like you can’t be honest with me, ok?”

“You sure you’re ok with this, hoss?”

“I feel like this way, we can make it what we wanted it to be, you know?” Mac asks, hands sliding from Jack’s cheeks to the side of his throat, fingers gripping tightly at the back of his neck. “Not forget it, but maybe somehow make it something good.”

“I get you,” Jack replies, but then his confusion morphs into concern again. “But you’re still healin’ Mac. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

Mac grins. “Just means you’ll have to do all the work,” he says, tilting an eyebrow, and caressing Jack’s neck lightly, marvelling at the way he’s allowed to do this. “If you think you’re up for it?”

“Up for it? And you think _my_ puns are bad,” Jack grins and moves back in for another kiss. This one is soft and slow and all romance. This kiss lets Mac breathe through his nose and last longer than the first one. They slow the movement of their mouths and end it with soft little lingering kisses, like the idea of stopping is unbearable.

Mac stands and takes Jack’s hand, leading him back through the house and to his room.

The only light on in Mac’s room is the big neon sign over his bed, and it lights Jack up pink, sparkling in the grey hairs sprinkled throughout his brown fauxhawk. Mac runs his hands up through that hair, watching the way it springs back into place after his fingers pass, feeling the velvet softness of it under his fingers. It’s like static electricity, making him feel tingly and raising the hairs on his forearm.

“What?” Jack asks.

Mac grins, and moves his hand more quickly, Jack’s hair so soft. “I get to touch you whenever I want. And I gotta say: it’s pretty great.”

Jack lifts his hands to set them on Mac’s chest, but he hesitates, a look of grief and guilt crossing his features.

Mac grabs Jack’s wrists and pulls him forward, planting his palms hard in the middle of Mac’s chest. “I’m fine Jack,” he says firmly. He’s tired of Jack feeling guilty and responsible for the whole thing they went through. But he wouldn’t be Jack if he didn’t feel that way. “And it’s not your fault. Ok? How many times have you tried to tell me that very thing? That I’m not responsible for everything that happens around me all the time? Just because I can’t stop something doesn’t mean I caused it?”

Jack nods, and lets his hands relax on Mac’s chest. And then they tighten again, pulling at the fabric and drawing it up until Mac lifts his arms and lets Jack pull the henley over his head.

Once the shirt is on the floor, Jack puts his hands back in the same spot over Mac’s breastbone. And then he moves them, slowly and softly. One lingers on the right, over Mac’s gunshot scar, the other hands moves down, rubbing soft patterns into Mac’s stomach and side.

Mac pulls Jack’s t-shirt off next, and drops it on the floor. He uses his fingertips to trace the lines of Jack’s body; from the dip between his collarbones just above his sternum, down to circle one nipple and then another (rewarded with a gasp each time) and down further to his bellybutton until Mac’s fingers are running softly along the waist of Jack’s jeans.

Mac steps back to remove his Levi’s, and drops his boxers with them, kicking them into the corner and tossing his socks to join them a second later. When he looks back, Jack has done the same. And then they’re standing naked with each other. And it’s the same as Russia, but it’s different. It’s tender and they’re alone. Mac doesn’t feel the unease, the sense of lingering eyes. He just feels Jack. He can almost sense the heat radiating off the man.

They step back to each other, hands on biceps and forearms as they look at each other. Jack glows in the neon light, the pink reflected in his eyes. Mac brings his fingers up to trace the lines of Jack’s face.

“Mac?” Jack asks softly.

“Yeah, Jack?” Mac asks, meeting Jack’s eye while letting his fingers still linger on Jack’s face; thumb tracing the corner of his mouth, fingertips scraping scruff that’s grown longer than Jack usually likes.

“I’m…” Jack swallows hard, and then whispers the next words in a quick rush of breath. “Nervous as all get out right now man.”

“Nervous?” Mac asks, solemn at first, but he lets a soft smile spread across his face. “ _Just_ nervous? Cause I’m pretty excited. And it feels a bit like being nervous.” He reluctantly lets go of Jack’s face, and takes his wrist. Then he guides Jack’s hand slowly down over his chest and his stomach, Jack’s fingers trailing lightly along the skin, going lower until Jack’s knuckles brush Mac’s hardness in the best possible way.

Mac groans as Jack’s fingers wrap around him, the grip loose and providing no satisfaction and yet it’s perfect. It’s nothing like the way things started with them in Russia. That was mechanical, and stiff and necessary. This is soft and gentle and caring.

Jack moves in to kiss him, breath soft against his lips. Mac gasps as Jack’s fingers tighten and turns his head away from the kiss.

“Mac… I-”

“No, it’s ok,” Mac cuts Jack off before he can apologize and meets his eye. “I just… I think I’m going to have a hard enough time breathing steady while you’re-” He groans again as Jack shifts his hand, pulling up a little. “While you’re doing that. If you kiss me I’ll probably pass out again.”

Jack pulls his hand back. “See dude, I told you this was a bad idea,” he says.

“Jack I swear, if you don’t touch me again I’m going to go crazy here,” Mac says, feeling a little insane as he grips Jack’s shoulders. His brain is racing, unable to focus on a thought. He can’t focus on anything but Jack naked in front of him. He slides a hand down Jack’s belly and takes him in hand; Jack was hard. “I know you want to.” He strokes fast and hard, almost cruel for a first touch. He falls forward, his body pressing against Jack’s so his hand has little room to move, and he mouths at Jack’s cheek. “Come on Jack. Please.”

Jack growls and set his hands back to Mac’s skin, roaming quickly and never settling: rubbing at his shoulder, fisting in his hair. “Just no kissin’ your mouth,” he says as his lips join his hands and roam Mac’s skin. “I can handle that.” His lips travel from Mac’s cheek to his ear, down his neck and to his shoulder. “Feels so good Mac,” he groans. “Come on. Harder.”

Mac’s eyes drift closed at the sensation of Jack’s hot mouth on his body, unable to go lower than Mac’s shoulders without pushing away from Mac’s hand. “Harder,” Jack requests again.

“I don’t think so,” Mac teases, slowing the pace and loosening his grip. “If I do that then this will all be over way too fast.”

Jack whines into Mac’s skin, mouth open on his neck, teeth teasing a bite.

Mac lets go, and Jack’s teeth sink in a little on his next groan.

Jack takes Mac’s face into his hands. “My turn to tease I think,” he says with a mischievous look in his eyes. And then he plants a soft closed mouth kiss to Mac’s mouth before moving his kisses down again, now moving past shoulders to skin he can reach without threat of losing Mac’s teasing attention. He kisses over Mac’s chest, licking lightly at his nipples but not lingering. He finds ticklish places on Mac’s sides, moving quickly away from them to avoid Mac losing his breath while laughing. Suddenly Jack is on his knees and he presses his face in, breathing deep at the base of Mac’s cock, opening his mouth sucking at the side.

Mac shudders, something deep at his core releasing in a way he’s never felt. And Jack hasn’t even really started.

Jack meets his eye and moves up to take Mac into his mouth, moving slow with a swirling tongue and little pressure to start. He breaks eye contact to slide down until Mac hits the back of his throat and then he comes back up. Spit makes the second slide even better than the first, and Jack starts moving in earnest.

Mac’s breath catches in his throat, and his lungs are having trouble keeping up with the heaving breath. He grips hard at Jack’s shoulders. “Jack,” it comes out as a passionate whisper. “Jack, the bed, please?”

Jack pulls off with an obscene noise and looks up, concern in his eyes. He hops to his feet and puts an arm around Mac’s waist. “Course,” Jack says.

Mac leans some weight on Jack to make him feel better, but breaks off when the get to the bed and crawls up to lay in the middle.

Jack opens the top drawer of the first nightstand, rifles around a little and closes it again before walking around to the other side. Mac just watches, hands interlaced behind his head. He’s never been able to just watch Jack before and not had to hide himself. And now Jack’s walking around his bedroom, naked and hard, getting ready to have sex with Mac. He’s allowed to be a little excited, and he’s also allowed to take in the view.

Jack opens the second nightstand drawer. “So, how do you want to do this man?” He asks, stirring the contents around before making a triumphant sound and coming up with a bottle of lube.

“What do you mean?” Mac asks, still distracted by Jack. Naked. Hard. In his bedroom. Holding a bottle of lube.

Jack mumbles out a sentence that Mac doesn’t catch, except for the word “bottom” somewhere in the mix.

Mac shakes his head. “No, just like last time,” he says, and then adds an addendum. “Well, not exactly. I’m going to be on my back this time because I don’t think I have the energy to ride you-”

Jack groans despite the fact that Mac is talking as though he’s working through an equation out loud and not talking about sex.

“But other than that. Yeah,” Mac says. “Like I said earlier: I really think we can…”

“Make it ours,” Jack finishes with a nod.

“Seems to be working so far,” Mac says, holding out his arms to indicate that he’s naked in the middle of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jack grabs one of the pillows from under Mac’s head, and he braces for impact. Instead Jack smacks his hip to indicate he should lift up.

Mac obeys and lets Jack slide the pillow under his hips, lifting him a little off the bed.

“You’re right, I think,” Jack says laying next to him. “‘Course you are, friggen genius. Cause I feel good right now. I mean, we’ve still got the main event comin’ up. But… I feel good.” He leans over and kisses Mac’s cheek, then the tip of his nose. “Still no mouth kissin’?”

Mac grins. “Maybe a couple more before we get started. I seem to be breathing ok right now.”

“I can change that,” Jack says with a wink.

And then they’re kissing again, and Jack’s tongue is in his mouth. Mac wraps his arms around Jack’s neck and holds on like he never wants to let go, and it pulls Jack closer, their lips mashing together almost painfully. Mac doesn’t care. He wants Jack as close as he can get him. And it doesn’t feel like enough.

But he has to pull back. He doesn’t want to lose his breath before they’ve even really started.

Mac lips drag across Jack’s cheek to whisper into his ear. “Jack.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. Jack understands. He opens the bottle with the click of a cap, and he keeps kissing at Mac’s face and throat and neck while a wet finger slips between Mac’s legs.

The first fingers goes in easily. Jack presses slow, but there’s no resistance. Mac’s not a new hand at this, the bottom nightstand drawer that Jack didn’t check is full of well-used toys of different shapes and sizes.

Mac’s left to relish the sensation. To feel the way Jack’s finger feels inside in a way he hadn’t been able to in Russia. Not distracted by the wet cough that threatened with every breath, now he can feel. The combination of Jack’s wet kisses and eager tongue on his skin, with Jack inside of him stirs up feelings in his belly that he isn’t prepared for. It’s lust and anxiety and love and everything.

They communicate without words, just like always, and before Mac can ask, Jack’s adding a second finger. This progress is slower and Jack is so patient. The fantastic slow tight press makes Mac’s eyes roll up in his head. Despite the discomfort this has always been one of his favourite parts. It’s the slow drag of anticipation made flesh, and it makes Mac’s blood run hot.

Jack’s fingers are still only partway in when he licks a long line from Mac’s collarbone to his birthmark and whispers in his ear: “Come on. Relax baby.”

“God, don’t call me baby,” Mac groans, half from pleasure and half from disgust at the pet name.

“Oh come on, I call you baby all the time in the field,” Jack says. His face is against Mac’s neck, so he can’t make out the expression, he there’s a smile in the tone.

“That’s, like, an ironic thing,” Mac says and he starts to laugh.

Jack laughs along, and his fingers slip a little deeper and crook upwards.

“Shit!” Mac calls out, his body tensing in pleasure. “Oh god, right there!” The words come out strained.

Jack tenses up under him. “You alright?”

“Oh my god, do that again!” Mac commands, gripping tight at Jack’s shoulders. He looks down to meet Jack’s eye and nods. “I’m good. Please do that again.”

“What?” Jack asks, coy, with a raised eyebrow. “Call you baby?”

Mac laughs again, and feels himself tighten up around Jack’s fingers. “No, asshole! Find my prostate again!”

“Oh,” Jack draws the word out. “You mean, like this?” And he crooks his fingers again, letting them slip just a little deeper again.

This time, because he’s expecting it, the feeling is softer. Like a racing pulse inside him. He groans, but his body doesn’t buck and strain with it. He doesn’t remember feeling this at all the first time. Doesn’t remember the feel of the sweet passes inside that cause pleasure. He knows it happened, remembers telling Jack “right there.” But he doesn’t remember how it felt. Everything was a haze of pain and fluid in his lungs clouding everything else.

“Ok, ok,” Mac says in huffed breaths when two of Jack’s fingers are slipping easily in and out with no resistance, Jack teasing that spot inside him every few passes.

“I don’t think so,” Jack says, and he pulls his fingers free again, squeeze still more lube onto them. “I’m doin’ it right this time. No rushin’. No hurry. That’s what this is about, right? Making it ours?”

Mac nods, feeling his eyes get hot with how much he loves Jack, but his throat is closed up with emotion and he can’t say it. That’s ok. Jack knows, right? How can he not?

“Ok, well then I’m gonna draw this out and make it what it should have been the first time,” Jack says. And then there are three fingertips slowly slipping into Mac’s body. But because Jack had taken his time with two fingers, and Mac’s starting to relax, this stretch goes more quickly.

Mac’s writhing on the bed by the time he’s really ready.

“You ready?” Jack asks.

“Yeah Jack,” Mac answers, knowing Jack will want the words.

“Alright,” Jack sits back on his heels, pours more lube onto his fingers and then looks down at his dick, then up and Mac. “I didn’t… Do you have condoms?”

Mac shook his head. He hasn’t had a date or a steady in a while. Last time he ran out he just never picked more up. “It’s ok Jack. I mean, we’ve already done this, right? Plus we’re both clean. If you’re ok with it?”

“Hell yeah,” Jack says readily. “Sorry, that came out kinda desperate.” His face went serious and he met Mac’s eye. “I like the idea that there’s nothing between us, you know?”

Mac smiles. “I really do. So hurry up already.”

Jack smiles back, slicks himself up, and moves over Mac. One hand is on the mattress by Mac’s head, the other holding him steady against Mac’s body, ready to push in.

“You sure you’re ready?” Jack asks.

Mac sighs dramatically, reaches down and takes Jack’s hip in a hard grip before pulling him forward. Jack lets Mac drag him forward and then he’s inside.

Jack brings his other hand up and falls to his forearms, body pressed against Mac as he pushes slowly, so slowly into Mac.

Mac wants to bring his legs up around Jack’s waist, but knows he doesn’t have the energy, so letting them flop open around Jack is the best he can do. But that’s alright because they have all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies in different positions. That’s not what this is about.

Mac lets his arms wrap around Jack’s shoulders, one hand wanders up to the back of his neck, pressing his face into Mac’s neck.

“Oh god Mac,” Jack says wetly. He drags his teeth over Mac’s skin again. His hips meet Mac and he’s all the way inside and his legs are still pushing him forward as though he thinks there’s further to go, as though he wants to be further inside. Mac understand because he feels the same way.

Mac’s sure he’s never felt anything so good in his whole life. And it’s not at all like Russia. There were feelings in that cold cell, but there was too much in the way for them to actually feel them. Here, in Mac’s warm bed, with Jack pressing him into the mattress, Mac feels everything. Mac feels Jack’s sweat on his skin; Jack’s breath against his throat, teeth scraping lightly; Jack’s fingers grasping at his shoulders and trying not to grip hard; and Jack deep inside him, pressing against places no one else has been, and stirring up feelings Mac has been hiding for so long he’s not sure he’s allowed to feel them even now. 

He waits on the edge like that, full of pleasure, sure there’s nothing better. And then Jack moves, pulling back, the slide out somehow better for the anticipation of the return again. And then he just hangs on, fingers digging into Jack’s back while Jack moves slowly at first, building the pace in increments until their skin is sweaty and slapping together in an obscene rhythm.

Jack mumbles into his skin the entire time, but the words are muffled and soft. They don’t need words anyway, their bodies are speaking. And it’s so different from their first time. Mac was trying to lose himself in fantasy the first time, imagining something better, something different, and pushing himself to come, trying to make it happen.

This time, it happens without warning. One second he’s feeling that sweet slow build of pressure, because Jack knows exactly how to cant his hips to stroke that place of pleasure inside of Mac, and the next second he’s coming between them with no hand wrapped around his cock. Just the slide of their skin together, and Jack deep inside him.

He yells Jack’s name to the roof, nails biting into Jack but not breaking skin.

Jack slows his pace and stops, pressing up on his forearms to look into Mac’s face. He brushes the hair from Mac’s eyes, and cups his cheek gently. “You alright Mac?”

Mac laughs, and feels himself clench around Jack, still hard inside him. And then he remembers that Jack never came in Russia. As soon as Mac had given what was required, Jack pulled away from him and they made their escape. His eyes burn again, and he uses the arms still around Jack’s shoulders to pull him close. “Jack,” he sobs, and now he’s getting emotional, as the orgasm still sends little shockwaves through his body. He lets the emotion dissolve in his throat before he talks again. “So much better than alright Jack,” he says, “please. I want you to come. Please. Let me see your face.”

Mac’s arms loosen, and Jack presses back up to look down at his face. 

“You sure you’re good?” Jack asks.

Mac smiles wide and nods. “Please.”

Jack listens, starting his hips again and building up quickly to the pace they’d set when Mac came. Jack tries to duck his head a few times, but Mac grabs his cheeks and lifts his face up again.

When Jack comes, it’s spectacular. His mouth opens on a groan that becomes a shouted growl. His eyes roll up in his head and close. Mac’s name tumbles from his lips over and over like a prayer, as he rides out the orgasm with slower and slower thrusts.

Jack’s lips are trembling when he opens his eyes again, the last “Mac” falling from his lips on a whisper.

“I’m right here,” Mac says, and he pulls Jack’s face down for a soft meeting of lips. Jack’s still aren’t working so well and he fumbles through it, sluggishly meeting Mac’s movements.

His arms are starting to shake, and as he softens and their bodies part, Jack rolls to the side and flops onto his back. He throws a hand over his forehead like an old fashioned damsel in distress.

“You gonna be ok?” Mac asks, looking over but unable to move his muscles that are still limp and loose from his climax.

“No,” Jack replies, “that was so amazing I think I’m gonna die.”

“Well, it was also so amazing that I’m literally covered in come,” Mac says, cringing when he looks down and finds himself sticky. “So, I definitely need a quick shower before sleep. And if I lay here much longer we’ll have to change the sheets too.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Jack says, “but if I’m wobblin’ around here like a newborn foal that’s your fault.”

Mac grins. “I’ll take full credit.”

He lets Jack pull him up off the bed, carefully rolling to avoid leaking any fluids anywhere, and they stumble to the shower together. He’s grateful he has Jack to hold onto, wobbly foal legs or not, since his knees are still trying to give out.

The shower is hot, the steam billowing around them when they finally step into the stall.

Mac takes a breath and feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The steam blocks up his lungs, taking up too much space inside his body when he breathes it in, and he falls back against the tiled wall.

Jack follows close, gathering Mac into his arms and holding him up. “Mac? What’s going on? Are you ok? Talk to me!” His hands grip at Mac’s sweaty and steam-slippery skin but find a hold and manages to pull their bodies together.

“Fine,” Mac chokes. “The steam. It’s… a lot.”

Jack opens the stall door and the steam immediately disperses into the room.

Mac takes a lungful of the cool air that rushes in, and lets his head fall to Jack’s shoulder. “I’m good now,” he gasps, “I’m good.”

“You scared the life right outta me dude!”

Mac wants to laugh, but it’ll be too exhausting so he just kisses Jack’s shoulder instead. “Let’s do this quick, ok?” He requests.

Jack turns them in the stall, putting Mac under the water first, still holding him close. He tips Mac’s hair back into the wonderfully hot water and washes it for him with the 2in1 Jack keeps in Mac’s shower. It smells like Jack. And the scent bubbles up around them making Mac feel like he’s home. He’s always loved that Jack leaves his soap in the shower, sometimes he lathers some up just to smell it and pretend Jack is with him. He doesn’t have to do that anymore.

Jack holds him loosely while he massages the soap from Mac’s hair, and those deft soldier’s fingers playing across his scalp make him groan with pleasure.

Jack tips Mac’s head back up and their eyes meet. Jack smiles wide, that beautiful smile that means real happiness; he doesn’t use it for just anyone. It crinkles the lines in his face in the best way. “There you go hoss,” he says, “sparkly clean again.”

The emotion that’s been toying with Mac all night wells up again. And he thinks about what they’ve gone through. He thinks about Russia and what happened to them; to both of them. And how, in true Mac and Jack fashion, they refused to let it beat them, and instead they pushed through it. Together.

“Jack?”

“What’s up Mac?” He asks, still running his hands through Mac’s wet hair.

“I love you.” The stifling emotion is gone suddenly; since he let it out now it doesn’t choke him anymore. And he suddenly wants to say it again and again; a million times. He feels a smile curl his lips. “I love you Jack Dalton.” Maybe the emotion isn’t gone, it’s just moved because he feels a warmth down in his chest that was just a little glow before, but now it feels like a bonfire.

Jack’s eyes well up, and he nods like he knew it all along, just like Mac knew he must. “Love you too.” And then he tacks on, in the same tone he’d used when they first met in the sandbox: “Angus.”

Mac feels steadier on his feet and turns into the spray. He washes the beautiful mess from his body, while Jack’s hands continue to trail over his skin. The movements are slippery with soap and water and old sweat that’s washing away.

“You keep doing that and we aren’t going to get any sleep tonight,” Mac says jokingly. They’re both way too tired for another round.

Jack’s arms slip around his waist and pull them together, Jack’s chest to Mac’s back. Jack whispers in Mac’s ear. “I’ve got a better idea,” his voice is soft and gentle, no lust in it. “How about we curl up in that bed and sleep?”

Mac groans lewdly and then laughs. “Perfect.”

Mac moves out of the spray so Jack can wash off quick, and then they tumble into bed, still damp from the shower.

Surprisingly, Jack prefers to be the little spoon. Mac doesn’t mind, wrapping his long arms around the man he loves and letting one hand lay over Jack’s heart. They settle into rest, the slow rhythm of the heartbeat under his hand lulling him into a warm sense of peace and he sighs happily against Jack’s shoulder. He’s at peace here, sated and the best kind of tired, and he’s never felt more at home. 

-  
Fin


End file.
